We will rush as thy minister-slaves,
Trampling behind in thy train,
Till all be made level again!

MAMMON

I hear a crackling of the giant bones
Of the dread image, and in the black pits
Which once were eyes, I see two livid flames.
These prodigies are oracular, and show
The presence of the unseen Deity.

Mighty events are hastening to their doom!

SWELLFOOT

I only hear the lean and mutinous Swine
Grunting about the temple.

DAKRY

In a crisis

Of such exceeding delicacy, I think

We ought to put her Majesty, the Queen,
Upon her trial without delay.

Is here.

MAMMON

The Bag

PURGANAX

I have rehearsed the entire scene

With an ox-bladder and some ditch-water,

Stand on one side, lest it should sprinkle you.
A spot or two on me would do no harm;
Nay, it might hide the blood, which the sad genius
Of the Green Isle has fixed, as by a spell,
Upon my brow-which would stain all its seas,
But which those seas could never wash away!

IONA TAURINA

My Lord, I am ready — nay, I am impatient,
To undergo the test.

[A graceful figure in a semi-transparent veil passes unnoticed through the Temple; the word LIBERTY is seen through the veil, as if it were written in fire upon its forehead. Its words are almost drowned in the furious grunting of the Pigs, and the business of the trial. She kneels on the steps of the Altar, and speaks in tones at first faint and low, but which ever become louder and louder.

LIBERTY

Mighty Empress, Death's white wife,
Ghastly mother-in-law of life!

By the God who made thee such,

By the magic of thy touch,

By the starving and the cramming

Of fasts and feasts! - by thy dread self, O Famine!
I charge thee, when thou wake the multitude,
Thou lead them not upon the paths of blood.
The earth did never mean her foison
For those who crown life's cup with poison
Of fanatic rage and meaningless revenge;
But for those radiant spirits, who are still
The standard-bearers in the van of Change.
Be they th' appointed stewards, to fill
The lap of Pain, and Toil, and Age!
Remit, O Queen! thy accustomed rage!

Be what thou art not! In voice faint and low

Freedom calls Famine, her eternal foe,

To brief alliance, hollow truce. Rise now!

[Whilst the veiled figure has been chanting the strophe, Mammon, DAKRY, LAOCTONOS and SWELLFOOT have surrounded IONA TAURINA, who, with her hands folded on her breast and her eyes lifted to Heaven, stands, as with saint-like resignation, to wait the issue of the business in perfect confidence of her inno

cence.

PURGANAX, after unsealing the Green Bag, is gravely about to pour the liquor upon her head, when suddenly the whole expression of her figure and countenance changes; she snatches it from his hand with a loud laugh of triumph, and empties it over SWELLFOOT and his whole Court, who are instantly changed into a number of filthy and ugly animals, and rush out of the Temple. The image of Famine then arises with a tremendous sound, the Pigs begin scrambling for the loaves, and are tripped up by the skulls; all those who eat the loaves are turned into Bulls, and arrange themselves quietly behind the altar. The image of Famine sinks through a chasm in the earth, and a MINOTAUR rises.

MINOTAUR

I am the Ionian Minotaur, the mightiest
Of all Europa's taurine progeny;

I am the old traditional Man-Bull;

And from my ancestors having been Ionian
I am called Ion, which, by interpretation,
Is John; in plain Theban, that is to say,
My name's John Bull; I am a famous hunter,
And can leap any gate in all Boeotia,
Even the palings of the royal park

Or double ditch about the new enclosures;
And if your Majesty will deign to mount me,
At least till you have hunted down your game,
I will not throw

you.

IONA TAURINA

[During this speech she has been putting on boots and spurs and a hunting-cap, buckishly cocked on one side; and, tucking up her hair, she leaps nimbly on his back.

Hoa, hoa! tally-ho! tally-ho! ho! ho!

Come, let us hunt these ugly badgers down,
These stinking foxes, these devouring otters,
These hares, these wolves, these anything but men.
Hey, for a whipper-in! my loyal Pigs,

Now let your noses be as keen as beagles',
Your steps as swift as greyhounds', and your cries
More dulcet and symphonious than the bells
Of village-towers, on sunshine holiday;
Wake all the dewy woods with jangling music.
Give them no law (are they not beasts of blood?)
But such as they gave you. Tally-ho! ho!
Through forest, furze and bog, and den and desert,
Pursue the ugly beasts! Tally-ho! ho!

FULL CHORUS OF IONA AND THE SWINE

Tally-ho! tally-ho!

Through rain, hail, and snow,

Through brake, gorse, and briar,

Through fen, flood, and mire,
We go, we go!

Tally-ho! tally-ho!

Through pond, ditch, and slough,

Wind them, and find them,

Like the Devil behind them!

Tally-ho, tally-ho!

[Exeunt, in full cry; IONA driving on the Swine,

with the empty Green Bag.

EPIPSYCHIDION

VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE NOBLE

AND UNFORTUNATE LADY

EMILIA V

NOW IMPRISONED IN THE CONVENT OF

L'anima amante si slancia fuori del creato, e si crea nell' infinito un mondo tutto per essa, diverso assai da questo oscuro e pauroso baratro. HER OWN WORDS.